Doubles or Nothing
by Sparker
Summary: The name's Higgins. Anthony Higgins.


Doubles-or-Nothing  
  
I swaggered into my office that day; it was a Monday I think. Hot and muggy it was, the heat outside pouring in on ya like molasses.  
  
I didn't want to work that Monday. Not at all. I had gotten one swell of a hot tip on a horse in the Cincinnati Racetracks and my bet was coming along fine. But Jack called me in, said that Davey had found a case for me. It was perfect for me, he said. Even Snitch had given up the case so I could have it.  
  
When I reached the fading building down on East 70th, the boys were hard at work. Even Rosemary, our "secretary", was busily typing something out on the old typewriter the guys had managed to scrounge up for her.  
  
Kelly's Private Investigation service wasn't doing to well these days. Heck, we ain't even got two bits to rub together. But we make do, living dangerously, with high tech gadgets from our secret sponsor no one's allowed to know about. But we haven't gotten any cases to go on lately.  
  
I slowly trudged into my office. It was brown - brown desk, chair, carpet and even a brown fern tucked into the corner. I always forget to water it.  
  
Pretty soon, Dutchy walked into my office to give me the stats on the case. He thumped a huge gray file onto my desk, raising these massive clouds of dust.  
  
Rosemary's gotta clean a little bit instead of lounging on her butt, I thought with disgust.  
  
Dutchy cleared his throat. "It's a big one, Double-o-N." He said.  
  
That's my code name, Double-o-N. Jack's Double-o-K, and Davey's Double-o- J......the list goes on. We all have code names for our top-secret investigations that everyone knows about....that type of thing.  
  
Officially, my code name's Double-o-N. But everyone calls me Doubles-or- Nothing, on account of the face I cant resist a bet. You know me. Always betting on something, risking the little money I make on horses or cards.  
  
But it was always the thrill of a risk that kept me going.  
  
"You gotta make this one, Race." Dutchy continued. "It involves an important member of the FBI....really special stuff." He looked at the file folder with awe. "I have no idea why that gave it to KPI, but you are sure one lucky stiff to get a hold on it."  
  
"Oh, get outta here." I said, disgusted at this rookie's un-cynical attitude. I was already jaded from years on the job. "Who's the target?"  
  
"I'm not sure...." Dutchy replied, wrinkling his nose. Sheesh, can this kid be anymore annoying?  
  
"The person who's hiring you is supposed to stop by in a few minutes. I guess you'll find out then." He continued, oblivious to my glare.  
  
"Beat it, kid." I said, grabbing the folder. Chewing on my recently lit cigar, I waved my hand vaguely in his direction, and opened the file, scanning its contents.  
  
The reason for the investigation wasn't clear, but it seemed a Miss Clara Spencer wanted me to follow her husband for a while.  
  
Ah, it was always the same old gig. Husband cheats on his old lady, said old lady suspects, gets evidence, and divorces the poor geezer and leaves him hanging out in the breeze.  
  
Shoot, I thought. Why did they have to give this case to me? Some fresh- mouth punk could have taken it. Why did Jack have to make such a big deal out of this paranoid old hag?  
  
I heaved myself out of my chair, wiping the sweat from my face. Holy mother, it was a scorcher today! Flopping over to Jack's office door, I knocked impatiently three times.  
  
"Come in." Jack said, his voice muffled.  
  
I burst in. "why did ya have to give me this case?" I asked angrily, waving the folder in Jack's impassive face. "I'm an experienced PI, here. What's the deal?"  
  
Jack stared at me for a few moments. Dang it, sometimes he was the most stubborn man I've ever come across. Then he got up, walked around his desk and sat on the edge, closer to me.  
  
"Listen." He said to me, leaning his head on his hand. "The times are hard now....1933, jobs are hard to get. We have to take all we can." He rubbed his sweating face as I tapped my foot impatiently. The cigar in my mouth was a bit of a comfort, but not by much.  
  
"All I can say is, Racetrack, that Davey didn't find this for you. The lady who gave us the case specifically asked for you."  
  
"Is that so?" I said with interest, puffing away. "Why's that?"  
  
"I have no idea." Jack said, going back around his desk to fall into his chair. "Just take it already, see the lady, and if you really don't want it, give back to Davey."  
  
I thought about this for a few minutes. What did I have to lose? Then again, that might have been the problem.....  
  
"Alright, I'll take it." I said finally. I backed out of Jack's office, slapping the file against my hand. "But only as a special favor to ya."  
  
"Great, great." Jack said, making a shooing motion with his had, much like I had done to Dutchy. Well, who do ya think taught me?  
  
I walked back to my brown office, my cigar expelling a huge amount of smoke. I took off my tweed checkerboard vest and threw it on the chair in my office. Geez, if it got any hotter I was leaving, case or no case.  
  
Suddenly Rosemary walked in with a strange look on her face. I was about to go all out at her about the dust on my stuff - why did we hire her, anyway? - when she stated speaking before I could.  
  
"There's a woman to see you, Doubles." She said, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the state of my office. "I would clean up a bit, if I were you. " She left in a cloud of Chanel before I could answer her.  
  
I rolled my eyes and propped my feet on the desk. If this lady didn't like my office, then she could skeddadle outta here, and I would be free to go home and take a cool shower.  
  
There was a faint knock on the door jamb.  
  
"Whattaya waiting for?" I said rudely. "Get in already, I haven't got all day." I would have been politer, but it was just too hot to think straight.  
  
I rumpled my dark curls, looking up, not knowing what to expect.  
  
And then the broad walked in. 


End file.
